A Different Type of Magic
by McNamara
Summary: Meg finds herself at Hogswart with her life shattered around her feet. Can a muggle, even one with her own gifts, be able to function in a wizardry environment? Chapter 7 is up Please review
1. Offensive Accents, eh?

Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and etc. belong to JK Rawling and publishing. The rest of the characters belong to me.  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
August 21st  
  
  
  
"Now you don't go do anything that will embarrass me."  
  
Meg sighed as she looked out at the rolling countryside, slowly becoming urbanized until they reached the suburbs. Meg was so excited for this was her first trip to England, her father and mother's homeland. After they married, they settled into Nova Scotia, Canada since her father was transferred. Meg was born in Canada, though, a full fledge Canadian and she was proud of her heritage of both being British and Canadian. For her summer vacation, her parents thought it would be fun for her spend some time with her cousin, who was three months older than her; and never let her forget it either. The trip was a complete nightmare. Mary Frances was a spoiled brat and the thought of having a new person to boss around was utterly delightful. Meg silently subject to the Princess, as she called her. Mary Frances believing it was a compliment loved the insult Meg threw at her whenever she became high handed.  
  
Mary Frances pulled out a pocket mirror and with a pudgy hand try to fix the sleek down hair blond hair that held enough gel, hair spray and whatever Mary Frances could get her hands on this morning. "I mean it, Meaghan. Don't go make a fool of yourself, and try not to speak. Your accent may offend my cutie buns." Satisfied with the blond hairdo she snapped it shut.  
  
Meg nearly gagged then and there. Cutie buns? What kind of name was that? As if my way of speech could offend anyone, it was same language for goodness sake! Meg simply nodded, and showed a smile of recently braced teeth. She had the retainer off two weeks before her trip.  
  
The Princess shrugged at Meg's attempt to be smart but she never understood the joke. "I can't believe my parents have made you come with me. Why could you stay and play with Milo?"  
  
Meg agreed. Milo, Mary Frances younger brother was a sweet boy who loved literature and his hometown hero Shakespeare. Often they escape from the Princess's rage and look at the moment to the famous writer in the village of Stafford-Upon-Avon.  
  
She continued on: "This is my first time meeting his parents so I want to make a good impression. We go to the same school, Dudley and I. It was like love at first sight . . . "  
  
Now I know I'm going to gag.  
  
The taxi driver pulled into 4th Privet Drive and Mary Frances bounded out of the cab. Meg paused to tip the driver for she knew that her uncle never did before he paid the fare when they left. The driver gave her a sympathetic smile, "I don't think your accent is offensive."  
  
"Thanks, sir." Meg said, passing him some coins. "I'm not sure of the currency yet." The driver took some of the coins but return half of it. "For a lovely lady like yourself I'll not take it all. You learn quickly, and that's the right amount."  
  
Meg thanked him again then took a breath and stepped out of the cab. She stood in the driveway watching the cab pull out and travel down the street. "Meaghan, hurry up!" Mary Frances hissed up at the steps.  
  
Meg turned, her hope of escaping left like the cab. She noticed a perfect garden, with a white wash fence in the backyard with benches. The house had a light-blue shutter that shone like the white paint on the rest of the house. This was going to be one long afternoon. 


	2. Hello?

Chapter 2 Hello?  
  
  
  
Harry smiled at Dudley's nervousness. His girlfriend from his school was arriving for a visit. Girlfriend! Ha! That's hard to believe but as the doorbell rang and Dudley mopped the sweat off his brow. Harry hurried up to his own room before he laughed out loud.  
  
His aunt was running around making sure that everything was perfect for Mary Frances and her cousin who arrived over from Canada. Harry felt bad for the cousin getting roped in, but on the other hand she could have wanted to come which he'd have to say that she thick in the head.  
  
Picking up his quill, he decided to write to Hermione about this. Ron knew for he wrote him yesterday and was waiting for a reply. After penning a quick note he went to Hedwig's cage. "Ready for another flight?" The snow- white owl nipped his finger favorably, then down hard. "Okay, okay. You're getting moody girl. Besides, I'd better wait until night. You know the Dursely's."  
  
Not having anything better to do --- except maybe his homework for over the summer vacation that he had almost finished, the black hair boy with the lightening scar began to polish his Firebolt. A Quidditch broomstick that Harry was convinced was the best game ever. He was the seeker of his team at school. Glancing at his calendar, another two weeks and a half left. Signing he took out the cleaning kit and began to polish the wooden handle waiting until 6:30 when Mary Frances would be gone and he could go visit the Weasley's.  
  
~*~  
  
Meg was bored out of her mind. She thought about toying with Dudley, say something that would shock Mary Frances but decided against it. She though she sense someone else in the house, someone with extraordinary powers. Some like her? Could be possible?  
  
"Excuse me," Meg said as she stood up. "Could you tell me where the bathroom is?"  
  
After following some snobbish direction she turned up the stairs but instead of turning to the bathroom she continued down the hall. Thoughts and feelings flooded her. A doting mother. A loving father. Always trying to please their son. Always trying to hide something. A spoiled child, a child that has nothing? Not wanting to be nosey she built up her wall. Blocking out the memories and feels she tried not to touch anything. Turning to the last door at the end of the hall she began to knock. A voice came from behind on the door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Meg placed her hand on the knob and turned. The full force of opening the door of feelings and memories caught her off guard. Swaying she began to crumple unto the floor.  
  
Harry had only seconds to scramble up and catch the angel from falling. She was slender and weighted nothing as he laid her on his bed. Her hair was a golden brown that curled around her face. Her eyelids were closed but he envisioned them a brilliant blue. Her high cheekbones were slightly flushed and her lips were as pink as rose petals. Was this Mary Frances? Or rather her cousin? She was breathing deeply as if asleep. Tearing his eyes away he began to put anything away that resembled that he was in fact a wizard.  
  
What had happened to cause her faint? What exactly had Dudley been telling him? Or better yet was it his scar. If she recognized his scar that means that she too was a wizard. The idea pleased him, another wizard to kill time before the Weasleys came for him. Suddenly her eyes widen up as she bolt up. Her eyes were a misty gray for tears had formed in her eyes. On smooth skin, sheen of sweat glistens. Her eyes bore into his. "You're not like me at all. You're a wizard. A real life wizard!"  
  
Harry stared at the girl. What did she mean, not like her? She's not a wizard.  
  
"No, I'm not a wizard." She answered then blushed for reading his thoughts. "At least I don't think so." She slid off the neat bed and went to the window. "I'm sorry for zoning off like I did. I only get like that when I feel extreme emotions." She turned to the owl, "Hello Hedwig. You're going to have a busy night."  
  
Harry strode over to the cage. "How do you know that?"  
  
Hedwig hooted pleasantly at the girl. And hopped unto her finger. Meg absently stroked the soft feathers. "Umm . . . so soft." Keeping her head down she continued to stroke Hedwig. Why did he have to stand so close to her? A girl could get lost in those eyes, brilliant green like cats. He seemed so tall next to her. Her head could probably brush his nose. "I usually don't tell strangers about me, nor do I usually witnesses their memories."  
  
Harry froze. "You saw my memories?"  
  
Meg nodded and put the owl back in her cage. "Selectively, and you don't even know my name." She turned back and tilted her head up, "Please sit."  
  
"I rather stand." He voice was flat.  
  
Meg sighed. "Then I will," and she perched on his bed as if she could fly away. "I saw it all. From now to . . . " she trailed off. "Only bits and pieces, highly emotional experiences that you were trying to suppress." She curled her feet under herself, and pushed a strand out of her eyes. "I have control of my gift. I don't pry into people's lives or mind's but damn! Sometimes things like this break my dome."  
  
"Dome?" Harry asked losing his annoyance for this girl.  
  
"Yeah, like in those snowflake globes, the ones you shake. I block everyone's feelings out by placing a dome around myself, where I can emerge myself in the water where all those feelings are scrambled and never reach me. I never had a reading this whole summer until now. I'm sorry Harry."  
  
"It's not your fault. I think my magic is a gift and to you it's a curse." Her gray eyes bore into him, full of compassion.  
  
"You love being what you are. What exactly is a wizard like? Can you snap your fingers and boom! Your room's clean or . . ." A bang from downstairs followed by Mary Frances screech. 


	3. Here Today, Gone Today

Chapter 3 Here Today, Gone Today  
  
  
  
"Their early," Harry said as he bolted out of the room. Meg followed on his heels. "Who?"  
  
"My friend, Ron and his family."  
  
"More wizards?" Meg asked as they entered the living room. Harry had never had time to answer her for stepping out of the fireplace was a bright red head boy and a balding man who was obviously his father.  
  
"Sorry were early Harry but it's the only time that I could come get you." Ron explained. Harry nodded. "That's okay, I'll go get my stuff." He dashed up the stairs to finish packing his suitcase. Mary Frances huddled in the corner with Dudley trying to protect her.  
  
Meg ignored them and came up to Mr. Weasley. Before she could ask him anything about being a wizard Mary Frances got her gumption back.  
  
"This is all your fault," she said with her finger wagging behind Dudley. "You and your strange friends. I said no funny business know look what you did." Meg burned with anger and before anyone could say anything she stalked out of the room biting her tongue.  
  
Harry arrived a few moments after the awkward silence. "I'm ready to go."  
  
"So I am."  
  
Everyone turned to see Meg dressed in her jacket, sneakers in hand and her book bag at her feet. She turned to Mr. Weasley, "Please, just for a this evening. I promise not to cause any trouble."  
  
"Meg what are you thinking!" Harry hissed at the girl, she gave him a cold expression and lift one eyebrow.  
  
"I understand exactly what I'm doing, eh? Can you blame me?" Harry refused to answer that question  
  
Mary Francis wailed from the corner, "Go, I don't wanna see you ever again. Your a disgrace to our family."  
  
Mrs. Dursley tried to soothe the girl, "Hush, hush their one in every family."  
  
Meg gave a half bow to the crowd shaking in the corner, "Thank you for your . . . it was . . ." she faulted. "Educational."  
  
"Come child, did you use Floo powder before?" Arthur explained how to use it, assuming the girl was a wizard living in a household like Harry. Ron and Harry went first then a silent voice enters his head. "Don't say anything, please." The black hair boy looked at her pleading eyes. He simply walked into the fireplace and disappeared. Grabbing her bag she too walked into the fireplace and suddenly found herself surrounded by thousands fireplaces.  
  
She felt sick as they spun round and round. She desperately searched for Harry's memories as he had recently traveled through. She felt Harry's earliest memory, when a Dark Wizard attacked him. Meg dare not even think his name, it seamed like a taboo to do.  
  
Calm she stepped into the fireplace she felt held the memory. She stepped into a dingy room, dirt covered moldy floors. A mouse scurried at the sound of her footsteps. "Aw! What a dump . . ." Meg whispered to herself. A coat of grime covered brown walls and a decaying odor was in the room. "Hello? Harry? Are you here?"  
  
"Are you looking for . . ." the voice paused. "Harry Potter?" It was dry and raspy coming from a faded red chair. It was tall and Meg could not even see the top of the person's head.  
  
"Yes, yes I am." She stumbled. "I made a wrong turn with the Floo Powder and . . ." A dry, racking cough came from the chair. "Are you okay sir?"  
  
"I'm fine child," the voice laboured. "Are you a friend of Harry Potter?"  
  
Meg paused for a second. "I think so, we just met but he let me come to his friend's house for the evening." Meg though she should explain more when the door flew open.  
  
"I'll save you Master!" a tiny man cried as he waved a wooden stick in the air.  
  
"I'd mean no harm!" Meg cried. "If you can tell how to get to the Weasley's . . ."  
  
Her words went unheeded. The man chanted, "Avious Curiousio!" Meg felt a deep surging in her chest as if her heart wanted to stop. She felt herself through against the dirty floor; the smell of rotting flesh engulfed her senses. She felt groggy and lightheaded. The pain had vanished but she felt weak slumped against the floor and wall.  
  
~*~  
  
"Where is she?" Harry muttered as the other waited for the girl to appear.  
  
"Patience, it is her first time using Floo."  
  
"Can Muggles use Floo power?"  
  
Harry question rocked Mr. Weasley, "Are you saying that that girl is a Muggle?"  
  
Commotion broke through the house.  
  
"---Honesty, Arthur you let a Muggle use Floo's powder . . ."  
  
"- - - do you have a Muggle girlfriend?"  
  
"Do you think she's lost?"  
  
"---A Muggle?"  
  
Mr. Weasley waved his wand in the air and made his voice louder. His face was very red, going up to thinning hair.  
  
All proper channels were executed, through the Ministry of Magic. Meg had disappeared from the face of the Earth. One week later, the Canadian Ministery of Magic reported to The Fountaine household to find Mr. and Mrs. Fountaine dead; death by a curse. 


	4. Life Goes On

Chapter Four Life Goes On  
  
  
  
School had once again begun. Potions' lessons were long and OWLS were looming up ahead. Harry had a little time to think about Meg but as soon as the lights went out her image haunted him. Sometimes in his dreams he saw her standing in the midst of darkness. With tears streaming out of her gray eyes, her hands out trying to reach out for him. No sound escapes her lips but they move and mouth his name. The closer he tries to reach her, the black snake appeared around her, her pale skin glowing from a pale green light. Her body wretches in pain and then she was gone.  
  
The heavy feeling in his heart woke him up. Only Ron knew of these recurring dreams. He peered into the darkness; sweat glistening off his skin and the window appeared foggy. Sometimes, he would get up and stare out the window. Ron yawned and sat up in bed.  
  
"She's alive." Harry whispered. It was the first time in school that he mentioned her. "She's alive, and she wants me to find her." Nothing else was said for the rest of the night and the boys become lost in there own thoughts.  
  
~~~  
  
Meg slipped in and out of conscience. She thought she slept for days, but actually weeks. The curse hit it hard causing her body to shut down and slip in unconscious. Thoughts and images had flooded her. She couldn't be sure if it was real or a flood of memories that was absorbed by the floor. None of it made any sense to her, clips of feelings and blurs of motions. How could control her power if she couldn't even control her body?  
  
Hearing the sound of footsteps she tried to sit up but the cold had surrounded her and once again she fell into blackness.  
  
~~~  
  
"Think about it." Ron said as the trio of friends made their way to the dungeon where Snapes' potion class. "This is the absolute last day of September we'll ever have Potions."  
  
Hermione threw him a glance over her Potion's text. She had to count to ten before she could shake her head. Graduating seemed to be looming ahead and she didn't want the days to end. She enjoyed her times with Harry and Ron. Glancing up, Ron and Harry were in an animated discussion of Quidditch. His blue eyes flashing with excitement as his arm flew in front of his face imitating a broomstick. Hermione found she had to look up to both of the boys now. Her head brushed Harry's chin and under Ron's nose. Sighing she quickened her pace.  
  
She didn't want to be late.  
  
She didn't know what to think of her feelings.  
  
Settling into Potions class, carefully adding the ingredients, Harry stayed on tasks. He noticed that Ron and Hermione only had one argument, a new record for the bickering pair. Carefully stirring he glanced from the instructions and another weary eye on Snape, who was picking apart Neville Longbottom's potion. The boy hadn't grown much, and still trembled under Snape's gaze.  
  
"Meaghan . . . "  
  
"You say something?" Hermione asked leaning over the cauldron.  
  
"It's Meaghan . . . "he trailed off. His dark eyebrows locked in concentration.  
  
"Meaghan who?"  
  
"No, that's her name." He began to stir again but it was too late, the potion had settled to the bottom and a burning smell. Ron and Hermione could only exchange glances knowing that Harry's Meaghan was going to cause more problems.  
  
  
  
"What do you think about it? I mean, in the middle of Potions he remembers her name. She never told him that." Hermione whispered as she and Ron settled in the library. Quidditch practice was going on and she and Ron could discuss the Mysterious Muggle, Meaghan or Triple M as they called her.  
  
Ron dunked her quill into the inkpot. "I know. I don't get it." He looked up and locked eyes with Hermione. Her face had lines drawn in concern. "If I tell you something, don't tell Harry."  
  
Hermione nodded and placed down her quill. Ron took a deep breath and let out quickly. "He's been having dreams, nightmares actually. He'll wake up and stare out the window for hours. I know it's about Triple M and he's convinced she is alive . . ." 


	5. Can't Get Her Outta My Head

Chapter Five "Can't Get Her Outta My Mind"  
  
  
  
"Harry this is getting pretty bloody annoying!" Ron was being put up to this. Hermione was getting on his case, but the genuine concern in her eyes had Ron bring up the taboo.  
  
Harry's green eyes widen in surprise then in confusion. "Explain."  
  
Ron felt like strangling the wizard before him and it was that bloody Muggles' fault. "You! Your attitude! Nothing interests you! Not even Quidditch." That got his attention. "The rumor is that Hufflepuff is going to kick your arse all the way to Ireland if the Gryffindor Seeker doesn't smarten up!" Despite the anger in Rons' voice, real worry laced the words. "Hermione and I . . . well Hermione is really worried about you. She almost forgot to do the last question assigned in History class."  
  
With a snort and then chuckle both boys began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.  
  
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly looking over at Ron. "Guess I have been acting strange. As of now Meaghan is outta my mind."  
  
"Excellent."  
  
"And to celebrate, I think a midnight sneak to the kitchen may be in order."  
  
~~~  
  
It was so cold. Meg was grateful for the fresh smell of grass and burnt leaves. The grimy floor had changed into the soft cushion of uncut grass. She huddled closer; her summer clothes were no match for the chilly autumn air. Am I dead? She thought as the numbing feeling was overtaking her.  
  
I have to move. She flexed her fingers and toes, "Up and down, up and down," she recited until a tingle burned up her limbs. Carefully she sat up, the ground and the sky began to turn and revolt before her eyes. Closing her eyes, she murmured under her breath and quickly opened them again. The sky was above her and the ground below, where they belonged.  
  
Slowly she lifted herself up to knees; the tingle was a dull ache. Muscles groaned from inactivity. Or had she moved before? She couldn't remember, she couldn't remember anything. 'Think, think, think. Okay 2x2 is 4 and elephant is spelt e-l-e-p-h-a-n-t. My name is Meaghan. Meg,' she gulped. Her stomach rolling, threaten to retch the nothing that was in it.  
  
Tears spilled over and down her cheeks as she struggled to her feet. Crying, she continued to walk. 'I need to find help. I need to find someone . . . Anyone.'  
  
One foot in front of the other she crawled on the crusty field. A railroad tracks gleamed in the sunshine but winked out of view as tried to focus. Holding up her forehead, she straightened her back. Should she just crawl up and sleep? Let the fatigue take hold?  
  
She continued to plod forward, keeping her mind occupied by reciting every lyric she ever heard in her life. The soothing rhythm lifted her sunken heart and made her feet feel not as heavy. The sun was beginning to sink when the numbness curled in her bones to settle with her bones.  
  
Everything is for nothing? Her eyes blinked as she saw mine before with a warning, fade until a road. A road or shelter would be welcomed so she blindly stumbled into the magic shield where exhaustion overpowered her.  
  
  
  
Harry was flying overhead. Chasing the golden snitch over the Chasers practicing moving around magical hoops that had a tendencies to disappear and reappear 5 feet away from where it began. Madame Hooch was on her broomstick, strict and always expecting perfection she had amazing hints and strategies o help the team. She helped with all the teams so competition was fierce at Hogswarts.  
  
This is where the blinding pain of his scar, nearby had him hanging over his Firebolt. As he rubbed the raw skin, it pulsed down to a dull throb. In mid stride, Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened the, jade green iris saw not he Quidditch pitch, but a girl collapsing unto the ground. Golden brown hair cascading down her back in greasy clumps and bruised limps were thin and skinny. It faded out as the Quidditch pitch zoomed back in to view. "She's here!" he whispered. Then yelled. "She's here! Fetch the doctor."  
  
Questions were asked but unanswered when Harry flew over the playing ground and flew over the castle, beyond the lake before he twinkled out of sight.  
  
Madame Hooch barked her orders, "Just don't stand there! Do what the man said!" With the Gryffidor team scrambling to the castle, Madame Hooch followed Harry.  
  
Meg felt here sore body being picked up. Coldness coursed through her as she begun to tremble violently. Thoughts of 'I have to get away!' and 'Hold me closer . . .' mingled with her jumbled thoughts. "Hold on Meaghan." She opened her eyes slowly; bright green ones filled with concern held her vision. A lock of black hair fell over his forehead; weakly she picked up her hand to smooth the lock back. A tiny smile played on her lips that mirrored back at her. "C'mon, you're one tough girl." With that, he picked her up and flew up to meet Madame Hooch.  
  
Scents and feelings overwhelmed Meg. Her face pushed up against Harry's Quidditch cloak, it smelt clean. No odors of sweat or dirt anywhere. The brushing of air, made her heart race and her head light headed. She wrapped her arms tight around Harry's neck, one of Harry's arms around her back and another on the broom. She curled her feet around him and buried her face into his chest. The coldness had left but she was scared it would come back if she let it. Here, contented she fell into a calm sleep. 


	6. Upside Down and Backwards

Chapter Six Upside Down and Backwards  
  
Voices and colours seem to blend to a confusing kaleidoscope vision. Meg tried to focus on thoughts and the images that were before her. Just as she thought she could grasp what they were they flitted out and a new puzzle was set before her. In complete exhaustion she let herself fall into the comforting darkness of oblivion  
  
Any secret in Hogswarts was a well-known fact before the sun set that day. Within the hour every student in Hogswarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heard of the greatest taboo that could occur in their school. A Muggle was at Hogswarts! To stir up more trouble, Harry Potters' name was linked to "The Muggle" as she was referred to as now. The Slytherins were protesting their complete distaste for such a circumstance to occur. Wasn't it bad enough that Mudbloods were allowed in the space as themselves but a Muggle fouling their air was preposterous! The other houses were flabbergasted at the thought their concern was not expressed as harshly as the Slytherin counterparts. "Can't they use a memory spell or a forgetfulness potion?" Questions were mummers as students traveled from class to class. Various rumors of "I heard that she is really not a Muggle at all! She was an expelled student from the old colonies!" And that "She was the daughter of the Muggle parents was attacked from Canada during the summer." "I heard that she and Harry Potter was an item this summer, spend the whole summer together until, poof! She disappeared into thin air."  
  
Hermione watched as Harry's jaw clenched as they passed a herd of first years whom scuttled past whispering theories of various possibilities.  
  
"Are you doing okay Harry?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
Hermione sighed, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's your mood."  
  
"What . . . oh, my mood?" He wasn't paying any attention to Hermione, or anyone else. He was wondering about Meaghan. No one was allowed to go visit her. Only Dumbledore was in allowed in, and he was their only once. Madam Pomfrey was there of course, but that didn't count.  
  
"So will you? Aren't you listening, Harry?"  
  
Harry looked blankly at Hermione's expected face. Ron had joined up with the group; he'll explain what she asked him. "Sure Hermione. Whatever needs to be done." Her beaming smile that he gave her the answer she wanted.  
  
"You are the best Harry." With a peck on the cheek she hurried up into the girl's chambers.  
  
Harry and Ron started up the stairs to the Gryffidor boy chambers. "Why am I the best?"  
  
Ron gave his famous half smile, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "You have no idea, do you?"  
  
"About what?" Confusion and a hint of panic lit up in him.  
  
"You know when Hermione found that old play book, mis-shelved in the restricted section? 'Won't You Be My Canary'?"  
  
"Yeah, by the guy that was prosecuted by Muggles?"  
  
"That's the one," Ron opened the door to their room. "You just agreed to appear into it. You're the Prince."  
  
After gapping for several seconds Harry found his voice. "Ron, you better be pulling my leg, 'cause there is no way I'm being cast in Hermione's play. I can't act!"  
  
"You get no arguments from me, but the Hufflepuff boy who was to play the part backed out. You gave your word, and Hermione is not going to let you back out."  
  
With a groan Harry flopped onto his bed. What did he get himself into? After a moment of silence, Ron paused for a second. "Why did you think I was going pulling on your leg?"  
  
  
  
" 'If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time will pass me by? 'Cause I would walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight . . . '" Meg quietly sang out the song, her fingers playing the air piano over her bed. Her fingers flying over the invisible keys, carefully keeping the beat, with the left hand moving slower than the right hand, slowly then a hard, medium fort. Usually the left hand, with its deeper notes is used as a based, with the higher notes bringing out the melody.  
  
"Lets have a look now," Madam Pomfrey said hustling to the bedside. Meg looked over her shoulder as she did whatever magic was necessary at the moment. Her eyes rested on a portrait of a nurse helping an ailing man, and his rusted suit of armor was in a haphazard pile at the feet of the bed.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"Yes," came the brisk answer.  
  
"Um. Wasn't there a female patient in the painting this morning?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey glanced up and gave a quick laugh that was just as harsh as her voice. "I'm glad The Young Girl with Flowers, is feeling better. She's always in here complaining about something. Well, you're as fit as can be. A wee bit tired, I believe but nothing some rest wouldn't cure. I'll have Servus, Professor Snape to ye now, brew up a potion with you to stop that headache that pounds between your eyes every now and again. There's a uniform for ye that Professor Dumbledore has left. Nothing fancy but it'll do you right. Probably hungry, too? You can go to the dining hall and have a bite to eat. Put some colour back into your cheeks." She left, and with a pull of the curtain the painting was out of sight.  
  
Meg slowly sat up in the bed. Whoa, that woman is like a hurricane. After being in a sick ward nightgown, the soft shirt and blouse felt soothing against her skin. She slowly knotted up her gray tie that had the Hogswarts crest on it. Tears were making her eyelids blink rapidly. A clear memory of her father showing how tie a tie flooded back to her. She shrugged on the over black robe, the single stone on her finger glimmered. A daughter pride ring. She was truly alone. Until she could go home to her parents.  
  
It was the tiny crack in the door, with the hinge of the huge, heavy door squeaking into the hall with the clinks of utensils on plates and chatters of the day's events. As if by their own magic, the noise paused and the door swung open. Dressed in a Hogswarts school uniform, not identifying, the young lady to be about in her 7th year. She definitely wasn't a witch, or a squib if need be. The look of complete wonder, horror and panic plagued her eyes, and tensing up of her muscles as she brought her arms to her chest, hands clasped under her chin. Fight or Flight? Her first instinct was to run, who wouldn't? Hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking at her as if she had two heads. Perhaps having two heads as a witch was more accepted than what was the word? Muggle? In their school?  
  
"Ah, Ms. Meaghan Fountaine. It's such a pleasure that you could come and join us tonight."  
  
Meg gazed down the hall, to the head table were around a dozen teachers sat. From there were four long tables that ran to her at the other end of the great room. Each table had specific colours, as well as the uniforms that the young wizards and witches were wearing. Similar to her own she noted. Not sure of how to address the statement, Meg lowered her head and her eyes. There is magic in this world, I see that, but if it is truly here . . . please let the floor swallow me up. Oh please . . . oh please.  
  
She glanced up to lock eyes with a familiar green pair. They quickly looked away, a stab of hurt and humiliation hit her hard. What did I expect? He doesn't even know me. The headmaster's voice broke through her disturbed thoughts.  
  
"Since I'm standing, I have another announcement to make. Most definitely, you have heard of Oliver Wood, member of the international Quidditch division." Cheers echoed through the hall. "Many of you probably remember Wood from his days here at Hogswarts." More cheers, and the loudest from the table where Harry sat. "Wood has decided to return to Hogswarts to replace Madam Hooch's positions. Madam Hooch has been accepted in the Senior Women's division, and will be playing with the group in the new year." Cheers and congratulations were in order all round.  
  
Meg, who still couldn't find a sit, was thankful for the diversion taken away from herself. To her surprise she felt compelled to join the table at the far wall, silver and green banners told her that the house was Slytherin. As she approached the glares and malicious looks increased. Puzzled at their outward reaction as well as her own confused senses. Everything was so different, beautiful and strange and so damn confusing! It was entering primary all over again, only with more insecurity. She was different.  
  
Squaring her shoulders a little, she threaded between two tables keeping her eyes at the blank spot that appeared between two teachers, or professors as they called them here. Meg reached the end of the line, and then hesitantly turned to her right. Pausing before Professor Dumbledore, and a professor with deep green robes, she cleared her throat. When attention was given she quickly excused herself. "I. I'd better go. Thank you for the invitation to join you but I must decline. I am still not feeling well, and the smell of the food . . ." She was rambling. "Excuse me, again." Her compete composer was crumbling around her feet. The tears were coming, sting her eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks. Horrified, she placed her hand to her mouth to stop the sob rising from her throat. Down the middle aisle, she fled, trying to out run the laughter and the jeers. A hand came out and grabbed her other hand.  
  
The force of her speed and the steadiness of the grip had Meg fling around. Her vision was blurred but the jaded green eyes and slightly-to- long black hair were clear amongst the chaos.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Her voice quieted the room. Meg tried to struggle but the grip on her wrist was too tight. "You bastard," she hissed. "You brought me here. You brought to this damn hellhole. I don't belong anywhere. I'm going home to my family! To people who love me."  
  
The well timed marked had Harry back away.  
  
And she was gone. 


	7. She Just Doesn't Know

Chapter Seven She Just Doesn't Know  
  
She stood out, even in the black uniform that flung loosely over her jutting curves. She lost a lot of weight, over the last month. Or two, when he really started to think about. Absently, he rubbed the back of his neck His index finger and thumb easily circled her wrist in the dining hall. All he wanted to say was he was sorry about ignoring and to join them, Hermione was nudging him the whole time so he figured he better speak up.  
  
Then she headed to the Slytherin table. What was that? That house was completely against Muggles in general and prefers to go on living their whole life not speaking to one, let alone coming into intimate contact.  
  
It was the tears and the jabbing words that churned his stomach. The words hurt but he struck when her defenses were low. If you're going to kick a puppy be prepared to have the animal strike back.  
  
Tiny tinkling of piano keys was coming down the hall. A group of first years were fiddling with the lock. It easily had a magical spell on it. Hermione and Ron who were speaking quietly among themselves shared a smile with him.  
  
"Wonder whose playing?" Ron placed an ear to the door.  
  
Hermione paused, "And singing?" Sure enough a muffled voice was barely escaping through the heavy door that graced many of the halls. With an expert wrist movement, and "Allahomora" the first years watched Hermione was reverence. Hermione was the smartest witch attending Hogswarts, perhaps the smartest ever. "Standard book of spells, chapter seven."  
  
The door creaked open; the piano music spilling into the corridor was a gentle slow song. A tiny figure was hunched over the ivories, her fingers delicately pressing the keys. Her voice was a little low, almost husky, "Please come now I think I'm falling / I'm holding to all I think is safe / It seems I found the road to nowhere / And I'm trying to escape /I yelled back when I heard thunder / But I'm down to one last breath / And with it let me say /Let me say / Hold me now / I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking / That maybe six feet / Ain't so far down."  
  
The music began to play again, her back swaying, rocking to the music. The pain in her voice was evident; the first years were watching him intently to watch his reaction. Rons' was plain, distaste written on his freckled face. Crinkling his blue eyes on the girls back, he had enough. "Crazy Muggle." When he left, Harry paused and then followed suit. The first years quickly left trailing behind the seniors. Hermione however noticed the pause in the music and watched how she changed the melody. No likes to here a song about despair.  
  
A little classic piece, Hermione couldn't pick it out but it was fast but soothing. Gently closing the door, she joined Meg at the piano bench. "Please continue," she said when the melody stopped. Meg placed her hands on her lap instead. Her hair curtained her face as her chin drooped almost to her chest. Hermione felt her heart go out to the girl. She placed one hand on the nearest shoulder. It wasn't shrugged off but she felt the muscle jump in surprise, perhaps even fear? "My name is Hermione Granger." The young witch said to the brown shine of hair. Another pause. More silence. "I'm in my seventh year here at Hogswarts and . . . "  
  
"I know who you are." Meg whispered. She brushed her hair back with her hand, tucking it behind her ear. Hermione could see the beauty beneath the pale, gaunt cheeks and hallowed out eyes. "You are friends with Harry Potter and a red hair boy, Ronald? You are presently the highest-ranking student at Hogswarts, despite the fact that you were born of Muggle parents. Both of who are dentists. Please let go of my shoulder, and I won't be able to pry anymore." The hand instantly dropped. "I'm sorry. I'm so tired that I don't think I could try to stop it."  
  
Hermione took a deep breath; the shock was beginning to fade. "Stop what?" This girl needs a friend, and be damn if it wasn't going to be her. Being an outsider by having extraordinary abilities, as in extreme intelligent, she knew what it was like to feel lonely.  
  
"Harry never mentioned it? He probably doesn't understand it himself. I don't really understand if fully myself." A dry laugh escaped her pale lips. She shifted her weight to turn towards Hermione, "I have a gift . . . a curse . . . whatever you wish to call it. I can touch objects and receive their memories, and sometimes possibly their future. After a few days, I usually forget the reading, or simply refuse to recall it. That is more easier than preventing the feelings." She lifted her eyes up to Hermione. "I really don't what to talk about it."  
  
"I understand."  
  
The piano, bored of being ignored began to play. Meg leapt into the air. "Amazing."  
  
"You'll get used to it."  
  
"Probably not. I wouldn't be here long. My parents are going to relieved to see me. I sure I gave them quite a scare." Meg slipped off the piano bench, Hermione only watched. Did Dumbledore tell her yet? He must of not. Biting her lip, she walked to the door.  
  
"Do you have a meeting with the Headmaster this evening?" Hermione asked quietly, but slowly. She opened the heavy door and watch Meg glide through. Closing the door, she reset the lock.  
  
"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Just wondering," she answered. "Come to the common room. I know some people who would love to meet you."  
  
Meg followed the witch. "Thank you. For being so kind."  
  
"Its no trouble. Ah, here we are." Hermione stopped at a portrait of a rather large lady.  
  
Confused, Meg looked over her shoulder. "I don't see anything." But at that instant, Hermione muttered a word and the picture swung open on her hinges. Meg clapped in delight. "Truly wonderful!"  
  
Meg stepped into the petit tunnel that connected the common room to the outer castle. As she emerged, a bright red room greeted her. A healthy fire was crackling in numerous fireplaces. Wizards and witches conversing amongst themselves or frowning over homework occupied large comfy chairs and couches. A game of chess was being played in the corner, but the pieces were magically moving on them own.  
  
Suddenly a blur of grey and red bounded at her. The urge to scream and protect her head was suppressed as the blur swung its arms around the girl, threatening to squeeze her insides to mush. "Thank goodness you are okay. Mum and da are going to be so happy. They were so worried on days on end."  
  
"Err, do I know you?"  
  
Hermione watched the young girl pull herself from away from the 6th year. Minimal contact. Amazing, Meg really did tried not to pry into anyone's life.  
  
"Meg, this is Ginny Weasley. Ron Weasleys' sister. Ginny, Meaghan Fountaine . . . "  
  
Meg held out her hand, "It's a pleasure." Ginny shook the hand with gusto.  
  
"You got such a cute accent, you know?" The red head launched into a conversation with Hermione before Meg could protest the comment.  
  
"So Harry said yes, in all? No problem whatsoever?"  
  
Hermione laughed, "He did give his word, he must completely sympathize with me and agreed to help. I really hope Jorge is feeling better soon. I just have to find a Cornelia."  
  
Ginny shook her head in agreement. "We are going to pull to off do worry about. I'm sorry Meg, here we are prattling off leaving you drown -"  
  
"I'm a lifeguard. I can't drown."  
  
"A what --? Wait, lets' head up to my room. Everyone is staring if they never saw three gorgeous girls talking before." Ginny grabbed Meg's wrist and began to drag her up the stairs. This girl is a tornado!  
  
As she rounded another corner, she found herself stopping short. "'Oy Harry, Ron. I wrote mum and da, they're coming to visit . . . "  
  
Ron lost the twinkle in his eyes as he folded his arms. "Why?"  
  
"To take -" Ginny stopped as Hermione was making a slashing motion across her neck. Her head was shaking and lips were mouthing 'no'. Ron and Harry noticed the panic but Meg appeared interested in her shoes didn't see the motion behind. "You never know with mum and da. We'll have to find out later. Talk to you in a bit." Before she continued passed the guys, she gave Hermione 'you better explain this later!' look.  
  
Meg followed through the door up to the girls' dormitories. "Please don't drag me. I have to two legs." Ginny laughed at the honesty, and Meg began to relax.  
  
"Sorry, I have to take charge to get anything done in my household."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I have six older brothers, they don't all live at home anymore. Actually it's only Ron, and me but when they all come to visit. Watch out!"  
  
Meg spluttered. "Six! Six Brothers! I feel bad for your boyfriend."  
  
Ginny shrugged, "It happens. Hermione is like their adoptive sister, and her guy friends have to go through the third degree too. Remember the fling with Krum? Ah, home sweet home."  
  
Inside the room were four beds, large canopies' with small, subtle ruffles and frills. Two long windows over looked a field with 3 hoops on poles at each end. Interesting. Dressers and closets were covered with pictures of friends and family, all waving to the new visitor.  
  
"Amazing," Meg said as she peered closer. "They more, as in the paintings. Unbelievable. I feel like I entered the twilight zone." The two witches shrugged but Meg didn't try to elaborate. "It's nothing important."  
  
"Who is Cornelia?" and "What is a lifeguard?" came out together.  
  
All three laughed, as they flopped onto the bed.  
  
Meg looked up to see blue and brown eyes crinkle with mirth. She realized how close these two girls were. They easily passed signals back and forth without consciously thinking about it.  
  
"I'll answer first," Meg said pulling the pillow under stomach, and hugging the top part of it. She lifted her legs up, and began to swing her legs. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the bed and Ginny half slipped over the bed, her head propped up by her hands. "Lifeguard is a person who watches over people who are swimming at a pool, beach or lake. We have to go under a lot of specialized training, first aid, and public relation situations. All that fun stuff. However it hold a lot of responsibility." Hermione nodded in agreement, she thought all as much.  
  
"Cool, I think Hermione should explain who Cornelia is." Ginny said, pulling herself back up to the bed.  
  
"Well," Hermione began first explaining of how she found the play. "In summary, its about a Princess Cornelia who falls in love with a peasant, Marcus, and wants to run away with him. However her father engages her to a prince of a neighboring country."  
  
"So what happens?" Meg asked eagerly.  
  
Hermione gave a half smile. "You got to go see the play."  
  
"Sneaky, sneaky."  
  
"I know."  
  
A small beep came from Meg's watch. "Ah! I have to go meet Mr. Dumbledore." She scrambled off the bed. She headed towards the door, and then turned. "Thanks so much for the talk. I really appreciated. When I go home, you both will have to come visit. My parents will love to meet you, witches n' all. Take care." She gave a last wave and gently closed the door behind her.  
  
"She doesn't know?" Ginny asked alarmed.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I'm glad your mother is going to be there. It will make everything easier."  
  
"How do you think is going to take it? One thing to realize that your parents are dead, another is find out that you are staying in a country halfway across the ocean."  
  
Ginny and Hermione were left to their own thoughts.  
  
~*~~*~  
  
Okay, okay. A little boring ending, but I do have to build my plot. A nasty little thing in writing. You do you think I made Ginny too happy? I like to think that she is going to break out of her shell once she gets over her crush on Harry. 


End file.
